September 13,  2002

        Work has become brutal. The only time i ever leave on a regular time schedule now is if i leave some things undone.  Usually i'm there from 8:30 until about 7:00 or 8:00 - and still some things are left undone.  And i'm hoping to be able to use the 6 days left to me for some vacation, but the way it is now, it may not be worth it.  i'll be so tired trying to finish up things before leaving, and then trying to catch up again on return, that i'll end up more exhausted.  

      In a perfect world i'd have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth.  It must have got lost somewhere along the way.

      Himself has been just as busy.  Theatre is a full time proposition i'm learning, and then there's all the rest of the stuff that He does here at home.  i'm trying to help where i can - although considering the number of times we've gone out to eat, i don't think He's trusting my cooking skills any time soon.  And it's not that i'm really that bad of a cook.  In fact there's been many years of people actually liking what i can make (sometimes under the tutorial of "n" - hmmm... i really should pick nicknames for people when i mention them here, instead of initials.)  The problem is that Himself doesn't like a lot of stews and chili's and home-style cooking.  He likes the gourmet stuff, which i don't have experience at.  The other problem is He's a tad possessive of the kitchen.  Ah well, so long as we are nutritionally okay, i suppose it doesn't matter if we are eating out more, until the theatre stuff is past at least.

      It's not doing a whole lot of good for the house however.  Neither of us have time for doing any proper cleaning.  i have more time on the weekends, but He prefers i update the journal and my painting and etc.  i have trouble settling down to it when the house is dirty.  So it's a catch twenty two thing.  And in spite of my best efforts, finding a cleaning lady has not been successful.  As i mentioned in a previous post, we thought we were going to be okay with the one that we used before (sweet young girl who used to be a neighbour.)  She agreed to a time and day, we dashed out and bought all the supplies we know she likes to use - and then she was a no-show.  Not even a phone call.  Sigh.

      So. Once i'm finished writing here, i'm off to clean.  Not exactly how i'd hoped to spend my lazy Saturday, but a necessary evil just the same.  The dust bunnies are getting so violent even the cat is shaking in her furry feet.

      i have been dreaming about my mother again. As always, she is sick and i'm trying to take care of her.  But problems and people keep trying to interfere with my care taking, and the dream becomes all about me attempting to gain back control of the situation.  Yet everyone is upset with me for trying to fix things.  

      And the other day i had the urge to wear the ring she gave me.  Himself noticed i had it on, and i replied; "... i liked her sometimes..."  

      i wonder if, as we grow older, we become more tolerant, and perhaps more forgiving of traumas and transgressions inflicted upon us.  And maybe the dreams i'm having are more about guilt.  The guilt i know i sometimes feel, when i acknowledge that i didn't spend as much time as i could have with her, toward the end of her illness.  

     i was too angry then.  Angry that she was dying - which i understand is natural.  But also angry because even in her death, she pushed her children away.  While i believed her when she said she didn't want to burden us - i think she genuinely felt that - i still also believe that she was getting what she wanted in the single minded way she always did things.  And in doing so, ensured that both her daughters would suffer a level of guilt over not doing the "right thing" by taking care of their mother.  i hope some of this is making sense.

      And so, during most of her illness, she clung to the man who would ultimately take care of her, and all her money after she was gone.  (ack... okay some bitterness doesn't go away easily.)  It seemed as though the rest of us were set off to one side, to be called upon only occasionally.  So i continued on with my life, which was already topsy turvy at that point, with having met Himself and traveling back and forth to see him, and try to juggle a soon to be ex husband and explain all this to my kids.  i spent my weeks trying to juggle all of this, and my weekends with Himself trying to remove myself totally from the reality of the week.

      Toward the end of her illness, she wasn't doing very much.  Not even making her phone calls - we used to tease her that her greatest love affair in life was with the phone.  So it was with some shock that the Friday night of her final weekend on this earth, she called me.  And i was not there to answer.  i was here, with Himself.  Living - finally doing something in life that made me very happy, being in love with Him.  

      She left a message.  i wish i knew why she had called.  What it was she wanted to say.  i think she knew she didn't have much time left.  How coherent were her thoughts - on so much morphine?  Did she want to have closure with me?  Something i'd given up on getting?  i'll never know the answers 'cause i wasn't there to answer the phone.  And she didn't have the number here.

      All she said was ".. it's just me J...."

      i've lived with the guilt ever since. 

      If i've talked about this before, forgive me.  Some days it just needs to come out again.

 

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